


Paths Cross

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Dorks in Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Reunion Sex, Teasing, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 10:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho is ready to show Wedge just how much he's missed him while he's been off with the Wraiths.





	Paths Cross

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> For comment_fic prompt "any, any m/m, a long separation."

Tycho knows Wedge is on the _Mon Remonda_ , but he also knows it's going to be hours before he gets to see him. It's the first time Wedge has been back for any real amount of time since leaving to form his new squadron, so he'll be tied up in meetings for most of the day. Meeting with Han. Meeting with the commanders of the other squadrons in the wing. Seeing if he can requisition any supplies the Wraiths may need once they're gone again.

Tycho is resigned to it. Which is why he's so ridiculously excited when he practically runs into Wedge in the hall on his way to the mess.

“What are the odds?” Tycho asks, and that huge Corellian grin he so rarely sees on Wedge's face has hardly begun to form before Tycho is dragging him into a nearby utility closet, punching the inner panel and hoping that keeps it closed should any ill-timed maintenance droid happen by. He has Wedge's flight suit half unzipped, hands underneath trying to push it off his shoulders almost before conscious thought catches up.

“Tycho-” Wedge gasps, but he cuts himself off as he crushes his lips against Tycho's.

Tycho grins into the kiss, because he knows exactly what Wedge was about to say. They shouldn't be doing this here. They're nearly thirty years old. They're officers. They're supposed to be setting an example. They're supposed to be respectable.

Tycho doesn't care. Wedge has been gone for _weeks_ , and he's missed him.

He spins them, pressing Wedge's back to the wall and going to his knees. He looks up, puts that innocent look on his face he knows Wedge can never resist. “I think I resent the Wraiths for keeping you away.”

Wedge lets out a shaky chuckle as Tycho tugs his flight suit down the rest of the way. Wedge's cock stands tall, begging for attention. Tycho smirks up at him, leaning in but not touching yet.

“Tell me you missed me too.”

“Of course I did.” Wedge's hands fold into his hair, tugging impatiently. “Gods, Tycho, of course I did.”

Satisfied, Tycho takes pity and swallows him down. Wedge gasps, and his hips twitch forward helplessly. Tycho presses him back against the wall, using every trick he knows to take his partner to pieces in as little time as possible.

A minute later, Wedge curses loudly as he yanks on Tycho's hair and spurts down his throat. “Get up here,” he demands hoarsely, scrabbling ineffectually at his shoulders.

Tycho stands, pressing close and kissing him deep and thorough for long moments as Wedge regains himself. As soon as he has his wits about him, though, Wedge gives as good as he got. Well-practiced fingers pull Tycho's suit open and duck inside, taking him in hand just as he sucks his tongue into his mouth.

Tycho groans at the dual sensations, thrusting into Wedge's hand as he touches him just the way he likes. Tycho's hands move all over Wedge, drinking in the sensation of warm, sweat-glossed skin, grounding through the pleasure.

Too soon it's over, and Tycho bites Wedge's shoulder as he comes, then rests against him for a long moment, panting.

Wedge's chest vibrates as he lets out a breathless sort of giggle. “Did we really just do that?”

“Mmhmm,” Tycho mumbles, moving just enough to nose at his neck and leave a series of light kisses there. “Missed you.”

“I've missed you, too.” Wedge runs a hand over Tycho's hair, arms draping around him in a loose hug. “We can't stay here.”

Tycho sighs, not wanting to step away even for a second.

“You always were useless after sex,” Wedge teases. “Come on.” He nudges Tycho away and starts doing up closure of his flight suit for him.

For long moments, Tycho just watches – the nimble movements of Wedge's fingers, the flush of afterglow on his cheeks, the soft, satisfied smile. Gods, he _has_ missed him.

“You gonna keep staring or do something helpful?” Wedge asks when he's finished, swatting at him playfully.

Tycho catches his hand and presses a kiss to the backs of his fingers, delight at the way Wedge's eyes dance at the gesture. Then he pulls Wedge's flight suit back up and helps him into it.

Put back together, they still look rumpled. It wouldn't be hard to guess what they've been doing. Tycho tries to make his hair appear a little less like someone's been running their fingers through it. And there's nothing to be done for his swollen lips, but he just can't bring himself to care. Wedge is back with him, for as little time as that may be, and he is absolutely going to make the most of it.

When they're as ready as they can be, Tycho slides the door partway open and peers out.

“The coast is clear. You go first, then I'll follow in a few minutes.”

“We'll continue this tonight,” Wedge says, not at all a question. He tugs Tycho in for one last kiss. “Let me know where your room is.”

“I'll send you a message,” Tycho promises, and then Wedge is gone, off to whatever his duties will take him away for the rest of the day.

As he waits, Tycho pulls out his datapad and types the promised message. Along with directions to his quarters, he may include a hint or two of what that night might hold. He grins to himself as he imagines Wedge reading it in the middle of a meeting and trying to explain his blush.


End file.
